1:15 p.m. - 2005-06-07
Checkmate Rant
Feeling insecure compared to David's fantasies, paper and otherwise, I sought for areas of superiority. As David easily spent several hours an evening planted in a recliner chair digging tirelessly through a shoe box sorting microscopic marijuana shavings from seeds, this was not particlarly challenging. David did not actually smoke as much as sort, yet what he did inhale seemed to adversely affect surviving brain cells. More and more, David appeared drowsy, red eyed and rather stuporous. I knew his lack of mental acuity disturbed him greatly and he continually worked at feigning coherence. I began to notice that if I used a four syllable word he would repeat it in his very next sentence, conspicuously out of context. One afternoon, I came home to find two neighbors admiring my extensive collection of literature, poetry and psychology books. And there was David humbly telling them, "Oh, these? I guess I just like to keep up on things". When I would unexpectedly stop home for lunch to find David stuffing some bondage magazine under the bed, my intitial response was to sob, scream and eventually try to pay him back in kind. This was never effective, as he was the master of that dark universe. I didn't even have a walk on part. It didn't escape my attention, however, that whenever I read or wrote poetry or did anything that remotely activated either side of my brain, David was visibly shaken. Off center. He would do anything to take my focus away from creative and intellectual pursuits. This made me feel powerful and leveled the playing field considerably. And so, we jockeyed for position and tried to keep one another in check by playing every card that would provoke each other's most sensitive and vulnerable areas, calling it love. He made me feel like a prude. I made him feel like a perve. He made me feel uptight. I made him feel stupid. We fought with an intensity inspired by wounds that had been inflicted long before we met. We were the perfect complement to each other. Two lost souls, joined at the ego. The drama was relentless. Often mid-battle,I was known to rush impulsively out of the apartment only to sit in my parked car just up the street, vigilantly watching the apartment to make sure that David stayed put. If by chance, he should attempt to leave, I would burn rubber to return and continue the fight. But always there was this persistent and invincible tenderness, especially on David's part, between us. One time, some ritzy salon accidentally dyed my hair a striped, khaki green. Mortified, I dimmed lights so as not to be seen. But there was David, sitting beside me on the rug in the moonlight, gently combing my bruised tresses. The next day, he made a scene as only David can at the salon and, sure enough, I walked out with human colored hair no extra charge. Everything was all confused inside me. My nemesis was my biggest advocate. My perpetrator was my best friend and confidante. My irritant was the most comforting presence I had known since early childhood. And yet, the thought often occurred that perhaps there was someone out there more intellectually stimulating. Someone more 'appropriate'. Someone who had not committed the unpardonable sin of peering behind the veil to discover the cowering child that was me. Someone new who would buy my confident act. Lock, stock and bravado. Attention from other males tended to further confuse the issue. Given David's ability to make me feel mysteriously deficient in spite of all his attention, I was constantly walking around seeking reassurance in any eyes that caught my own. Still, I could not imagine life without David. However unsightly a blemish, he was a part of me. Cauterizing seemed premature and painfully unnecessary. The only reasonable alternative was, of course, marriage.
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